By Her
The words keep coming,
I don't even know which world to live in.
I keep on writing,
I don't even remember how I fell for it.
Time becomes a second,
then an hour, then some hours,
and then a whole day.
The pen becomes my lover,
then ours - when you claim to be writers,
and then by her we choose to stay.
Copyright © Mel Marakalala | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment